“Yeah, but heaps of people choose mates, they don’t have to be fated, and I, for one, don’t even believe in fated mates. Look at my father’s mate, real catch, she’s a golddigging bitch. I’d rather skip on the mate’s part, thank you,” I tell him, and he shakes his head.
“And you think Deacon isn’t after the same thing? He knows you’re the next Alpha, he becomes your mate, you become his Luna while he steals your title right out from under you,” Zayn states.
I’d never thought of that. Deacon wouldn’t do that. We’ve been together for two years and not once has he ever mentioned becoming Alpha once I take over the pack.
However, Zayn’s words about Deacon seeking power echo through my mind as I try to piece together the fragments of last night. I barely remember anything. I remember seeing him dancing on the dance floor, that’s it. The concept of him using me for his gain feels like a foreign thought, yet it gnaws at the edges of my consciousness.
“I never thought about it like that,” I admit reluctantly, the realization leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. “Deacon isn’t like that. He cares about me.”
Zayn raises an eyebrow, a skeptical look crossing his features. “Does he? Or does he care about what being with you can get him? Think about it, Cleo.”
His words sting, and a part of me wants to defend Deacon, to deny Zayn’s accusations. Another part, a growing, nagging doubt, wonders if there’s some truth to them. The world of pack politics is a complex web of alliances and power plays, and I’ve always known being the next Alpha would put me in the center of it all.
“Even if what you’re saying is true, what does it matter?” I challenge, trying to mask the turmoil inside me. “I don’t need a fated mate, fate can be wrong, look at my mother, fate really fucked her over.”
Zayn’s gaze softens again, and he steps closer, his presence overwhelming. “You might be surprised at what fate has in store for you.”
The proximity between us is electric, a current that seems to flow from him to me, igniting a fire I didn’t know existed. His eyes search mine, and for a moment, I feel as if he’s looking straight into my soul.
The room feels charged with an energy I can’t explain, and I find myself leaning toward him, drawn by an invisible force. His scent envelops me, a heady mix that makes my head spin.
“Doesn’t matter, not now anyway. Just do what you want. You wanna stay with the fool, be my guest. Just know that you’re safe. And nothing happened between us,” he says, his gaze holding mine. I suppose I should be grateful it was him and not someone else with more sinister intentions.
“Thank you,” I whisper, feeling a little relieved. He nods, his eyes never leaving mine, as if trying to reassure me without words. Yet the tension remains, undeniably simmering between us – a heat that refuses to be extinguished, and his gaze is intense.
And though I know I should be grateful for his help, I wonder what it would have been like if something had happened between us. This dangerous thought sends a shiver down my spine and ignites a fire deep within me that threatens to consume my very being.
“Look, I wasn’t drunk, I had two drinks and I definitely didn’t take any drugs voluntarily, and I am sorry you had to babysit me. But you are wrong about Deacon, he wouldn’t abandon me,” I insist, my voice trembling with embarrassment. The heat between us is undeniable; however, so is the humiliation.
“You are seriously still doubting me? See for yourself.” Zayn hands me his phone, and on the screen is a video of me being carried inside the packhouse by him, clearly not in control of my own body.
“Your so-called boyfriend left you alone while you were like that.”
I chew my lip, tears threatening to spill at the thought of Deacon just abandoning me. I hand the phone back to him. “Why am I wearing your shirt?”
“As I said, you were slipped something, and you threw up on yourself. I showered you.” He shrugs, though his eyes burn into mine with an intensity that makes my heart race. My face flushes at the realization that he’d seen me naked, he had said it. I was kind of hoping he was joking and that he had his cleaner, maid, or someone else do it. As if sensing my discomfort, Zayn leans over me, gripping my chin and forcing me to look at him.
“Don’t worry, you have nothing to be ashamed about,” he smirks, and I swear I notice a glint of desire in his eyes. He lets me go after a few intense seconds.
I move to the edge of the bed, only to realize I have no underwear on, and I awkwardly pull the shirt down, trying to conceal myself.
“Let me guess, you took me to the hospital, too?” I snap, trying to regain some sense of control as I climb off the bed, only to notice that my injured leg is now completely healed.
“No, I healed you,” he replies, shaking his head.
I stare at him in disbelief. “You what?” I ask him. Healing like that was incredibly rare and dangerous; it is taboo for a reason. Mates would only heal each other in the direst of circumstances, and even then, such an act could be fatal for the healer. Why would Zayn risk his life for someone who meant nothing to him? When another thought occurs to me, he could have sired me by doing so, meaning my wolf would obey him.
“Please tell me you’re joking right now?”
He folds his arms across his chest and raises one eyebrow at me. “Do I look like I am joking?”
I swallow. “You could have sired my wolf before I even got it!” I snap, annoyed at him, though that may explain the weird attraction I’ve had toward him since waking up.
“I can’t believe this. I saved your ass just to get abused over it, gee thanks,” he snaps, making me feel guilty.
“It’s not that… Please don’t tell my dad about this,” I plead, my voice barely audible. I shudder at the thought of what he’d say or do if he found out. What if he strips me of my title? Especially if Zayn has in fact, sired my wolf to obey him? That would put the pack at risk.
“Fine.” I let out a breath of relief when he speaks again. “But you have to go to breakfast with me,” Zayn says with a grin. My heart leaps in my chest. What if we’re seen together?
